


Under the Mistletoe

by notastranger



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 12:13:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19376479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notastranger/pseuds/notastranger
Summary: “Oh!” He smiled and placed a hand on his cheek. “Merry Christmas to you, too, dear.”She laughed and pointed to the mistletoe hanging above him. “Couldn’t miss my chance to kiss an angel,” she joked, and Crowley lost all of the being impressed and went straight to annoyed. She caught his expression and grinned. “What, did you want a kiss from me, too?”“Hard pass,” Crowley hissed, and continued on to the kitchen.





	Under the Mistletoe

The first kiss came from Anathema.

It was Christmastime, roughly six months after Armageddon was cancelled, and the former professional descendent had decided to throw a small holiday party. She invited Madame Tracy and Shadwell, Adam and the Them, and last but not least, an angel and a demon who were currently on leave from their respective sides.

Aziraphale responded to the invitation with enthusiasm; Crowley decidedly less so. But they both rolled into Tadfield in the Bentley, arriving safely despite the dusting of picture-perfect snow that always fell over the village this time of year.

They walked into the cottage, greeted by Newt, who offered to take their winter coats and was only briefly confused that they didn’t have any. “Right, supernatural spirits,” he said with an awkward smile.

“Where’s the alcohol?” Crowley asked before sniffing a bit and tilting towards the kitchen. “Never mind, found it.”

He had taken two steps away, when Anathema breezed past him. “Hello, Crowley,” she said with far too much familiarity, which both annoyed and impressed him, before approaching Aziraphale and giving him a peck on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Aziraphale.”

“Oh!” He smiled and placed a hand on his cheek. “Merry Christmas to you, too, dear.”

She laughed and pointed to the mistletoe hanging above him. “Couldn’t miss my chance to kiss an angel,” she joked, and Crowley lost all of the being impressed and went straight to annoyed. She caught his expression and grinned. “What, did you want a kiss from me, too?”

“Hard pass,” Crowley hissed, and continued on to the kitchen.

~*~

The second kiss came from Madame Tracy, because Aziraphale hadn’t bloody moved in the time it took Crowley to get himself a glass of wine and settle onto the loveseat, legs dangling over the armrest. It wasn’t comfortable, despite its plushiness. The armrests were too high, he couldn’t dangle properly.

The former (among other things) medium, walked up to Aziraphale and placed a kiss right on his mouth. A chaste kiss, but lips-to-lips regardless, which annoyed Crowley, but not as much as it annoyed Shadwell, who broke off his illuminating conversation with Newt about the 1960s to march over and glare at his woman. “Ach, Marjorie,” he complained, using her real name as he had finally got in the habit of doing. “There’s nae need for that.”

Madame Tracy fluttered her lashes, clearly amused. “We’ve already shared a body,” she noted sweetly. “A small kiss isn’t much in that context, I don’t think.”

Shadwell turned his glare on Aziraphale, who shrugged helplessly. “She does make a good point, you know.”

“Silence, demon,” he snapped. “You may have used your wiles once on my beloved, albeit for the greater good, but I won’t stand for it again.”

“I thought he was a pansy?” Wensleydale asked from the other end of the room. He was playing a board game with the other children, but losing terribly, so he didn’t seem to mind the distraction.

“If it bothers you that much,” Madame Tracy said, fluttering her lashes again and puckering up her lips, “You can even the score?”

The retired witch hunter grimaced. “Fine.” He then grabbed Aziraphale by the shoulders and kissed him squarely on the lips. “There!” he said, pushing the wide-eyed angel away with equal force as he had drawn him in. “Now we’re even!”

Everyone laughed, even Aziraphale, who chuckled nervously and hurriedly wiped his lips with a handkerchief that had suddenly appeared in his hand.

Well, not _everyone_. Crowley was too busy downing his glass of wine in one furious gulp.

~*~

After that, it seemed like everyone was sneaking in a chance to kiss the angel.

There was Pepper, who took a knee like a knight pledging allegiance, kissing the back of his hand. There was Newt, who kept it to a simple peck on the cheek, like his girlfriend, but couldn’t resist ruffling the angel’s hair a little. There was Dog, hoisted up by Adam like the lion cub in that Disney film so that he could lick at Aziraphale’s chin and neck until the angel giggled and pleaded for mercy.

Crowley kept waiting for him to _move_. To join him on the loveseat with the too-mushy cushions that didn’t let him lounge properly, or at least get out from under the blasted mistletoe. Finally, wine glass empty and chest uncomfortably tight, he got up and made his way back to the kitchen.

Aziraphale joined him a moment later.

“Oh, finally decided to stop letting everyone slobber all over you?” Crowley inquired, not bothering to turn away from the counter while he refilled his glass.

He meant to sound disinterested, but Aziraphale saw through him like a… a thing that was easily seen through. The angel was getting awfully good at it lately.

“Is something bothering you?” he asked gently, and that’s what did it, that tender concern that he always had for Crowley, even when the demon was acting like a total prat. Crowley turned around and lowered his shades so that the angel could see the glint of his yellow eyes.

“I don’t understand,” he growled, hands pressed against his sides so he wouldn’t wave them around in his frustration, “Why you kept standing there, letting them all have a go at you, like… like physical affection is some kind of joke to you?”

He could count the number of times that he and Aziraphale had held hands. Or hugged. It wasn’t often for two beings who were very much in love with one another, and Crowley didn’t mind, not really, but it hurt to know that a mortal could get away with a kiss, and he couldn’t.

Not that he had ever tried to get away with it. Aziraphale told him once that he went too fast for him, and he was trying to respect that. For a demon, that wasn’t easy. Demons took what they wanted without thinking about the consequences. He didn’t want to take anything from his best friend that Aziraphale wasn’t willing to give.

“Well?” he prompted, and Aziraphale’s confused stare turned distressed as he dropped his gaze, hands clasped in front of him remorsefully.

“I was waiting for you to get up and join me,” he admitted quietly. “Or, at least, I was hoping you would…”

Crowley sighed, shoulders sagging as his irritation faded away. Perhaps Aziraphale couldn’t see through him quite as well as —

Glass! That’s the thing you could see through.

“Angel…” Aziraphale looked up at him timidly and Crowley gave him a half-smile. “You don’t need mistletoe as an excuse. You can just ask me to kiss you.”

Aziraphale seemed to come alive at those words, his hands fluttering with a nervous energy. “Oh… oh. I know. I, ah, I only…” His face went through a journey as he searched for words to properly express himself. “I’ve made you wait all this time, and I was hoping it’d happen spontaneously, but then I thought perhaps I’d made you wait _too_ long and you were comfortable with how things are, and things are fine the way they are now, it’s not as though I _need_ to be kissed, but I thought, well, if I _were_ to be kissed, a special occasion is as good as any —“

Crowley interrupted the angel’s rambling by stepping into his space, pressing him back into the counter and placing his hands on his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric. A much gentler version of the time he had pushed Aziraphale into a wall, all those months ago, and like then, Aziraphale merely looked into the dark lenses covering his eyes, without a trace of fear, only a kind of quiet anticipation.

“Angel,” he breathed, their noses touching. “I need you to ask me. I need you to tell me that you want this.”

Aziraphale swallowed, and Crowley couldn’t help but look down at his lips. There was a smile there, small and tremulous, but full of love. “My dear,” he whispered. “My dear, dear Crowley. Please kiss me.”

And Crowley did.

He tilted his head just so and pressed his mouth to Aziraphale’s, soft but not chaste. The angel let out a feather-light sigh and caught one of Crowley’s lips between his own, and the demon thought he might melt on the spot, right then and there, dissolved by something as divine as holy water and as blazing as hellfire.

They held one another, Crowley’s hands snaking to the back of Aziraphale’s neck, running his fingers through those fluffy curls that drove him to distraction. He felt the angel smile into their continuing kiss, his arms holding him steady at the small of his back, their bodies fitting together like they were always meant to.

“Your eyes are open, Angel,” he mumbled into his best friend’s mouth, admiring how much they shined up close.

“Yours, too,” Aziraphale replied, and Crowley realized to his embarrassment that his glasses had gone completely askew. He laughed, and so did his angel, gasping giggles that regrettably ended the kiss.

“How was that?” Crowley asked, removing his shades entirely, utterly smug at how Aziraphale positively _glowed_ , his cheeks flushed as if he’d been drinking all night, his mouth turned up in a silly grin. “Worth the wait? Worth doing again?”

“Yes to both,” Aziraphale replied happily. His eyebrows drew together. “Only I hope I don’t have ask _every_ time I want to be kissed? It’d be nice to be surprised now and again, don’t you think?”

“That can be arranged,” Crowley purred, leaning back in for another round.

A sound startled them both before they’d barely begun. It was Newt, who had stepped into the kitchen, but was just as quickly stepping back out. “Oops, sorry!” He waved his hands in an attempt at an ‘it’s all cool’ gesture before grabbing the bottle of wine from the counter. “Just wanted to get this, don’t let me interrupt.”

He made his departure, his voice carrying easily as he called out into the living room, “Good news, the mistletoe worked!”

There were cheers from the kids, and a loud “Shh!” from either Anathema or Madame Tracy.

“I,” said Crowley, eyes on Aziraphale but mind on the infinite amount of torment he was going to heap on everyone in the next room, “Am going to turn the entire lot of them into ducks.”

“Oh, don’t be so cross.” Aziraphale brought a hand up to gently stroke the side of Crowley’s face and he immediately melted at the touch. Dammit.

“I’ve gone soft,” he complained, and he had no idea what about that was so funny to his angel, but hearing Aziraphale’s warm laughter and holding him in his arms like this made heading back into the living room suddenly a lot more bearable.

But not before he caused the mistletoe to disappear.


End file.
